Lyra watched as Vulcan built a fleet.
Their section housed them in supreme luxury, conditions not even the wealthiest Canterlot elite or Manehattan trendsetter could imagine. It knew their whims, their wants, and their needs. All were provided with minimal delay.
She watched from an impossible beach around a deserted station as light pierced a star from many angles, and metal flowed up along those lines, energizing vast networks and machinery to new life. Most were too far away to actually see, but with magnification she could make out the graceful outlines of ships forming along the system's ecliptic ring.
Vulcan did not build as the griffons they fought. Simple function mattered, but so did the aesthetic beauty of every creation. Weapons emerged from perfectly-sized openings along the frames of each ship, weapons she could not name or even describe.
Lyra's travel partners each had their own tasks to accomplish. Time Turner, for example, spent most days in intensive study in an Ancestor classroom, learning the purpose and function of ancient systems. His confidence and passion grew right along with the ships outside.
Muffins had no specific single task to occupy her, and instead spent her days wandering through Esperia Shipyard, flying to its upper levels and returning with wild stories of all she had discovered.
The ancients built nothing for a single purpose. Even a war forge was also a spectacular national park, a thousand artistic exhibits, universities, and deserted cities.
"The numbers are so big it's hard to understand," she said, almost a month after their arrival. "There are stops on the transport system listed as six months away. It feels like all of Equestria could live in one tiny part of this place."
"You could," Vulcan offered. She was usually with Lyra during the day, leaving only to give her privacy and relaxation at night. Her robotic body rarely did anything—she had smaller drones for that, delivering food or guiding them through the station. She just seemed to enjoy being near people.
"Many times over. This facility contains warship designs, but this was not our purpose. By the time of the First Crusade, I had already been supplanted by more modern techniques. My occupants produced space stations, pleasure ships, and Sylphgate segments. But most who came to occupy this station did so while they waited for fabrication of whatever ship or colonial infrastructure would allow them to leave again. My permanent population was always small—visitors swelled by the billions, then fled."
Lyra's office was usually more than enough to provide for her needs. Her desk projector gave her tactical information, updated status on fleet production, and anything else she could ask. "The more I learn about them, the more bewildering it is that they could lose," she muttered. "I've already seen how powerful their weapons are. Their ships don't even need gates. How did they lose?"
Vulcan poured Muffins a cup of tea, settling it down in front of her along with a few miniature berry muffins.
Despite her corrected vision, improved cognition, and biomechanical flight, some aspects of Muffins never changed. Her dietary preferences remained exactly as the first time Lyra met her. "It feels like... maybe they did not like fighting very much. I didn't find any weapons or traps. It's much older than any temple Daring Do ever explored, and somehow still safe."
Vulcan shrugged. "I cannot provide specific information about the war. Your ancestors had no reason to update my historical database once they began struggling for survival. The information I retain paints a disturbing view of the past I would prefer not to consider."
Bon Bon dropped into the seat beside Lyra. Not far enough to preserve any illusion of separation between them. But all pretense of concealing their relationship had vanished when she became human. "Those sound like the most important details of all to share with us. Whatever dangers our 'ancestors' faced, they lost. The Republic could turn them on Equestria, and kill us next. We can't prepare if we can't know."
Vulcan sighed. The gesture looked so alive, but that only made the whole display seem even more confusing. A perfect metal statue should not move like a person sometimes, then hold perfectly still the rest. "They were... divided, against themselves. There is good reason their enemies resemble creatures of ancient mythology—they were first printed in our gene forges.
"From later records, it does not appear the ancestors of these beings were treated particularly well." With a gesture, the array of skeletal ships on the projector table vanished, replaced with a griffon floating in the air, surrounded by a breakdown of its genetic information.
It meant very little to Lyra. Only Muffins looked into the illustration for more than a second. "They were built to breed rapidly, require little resources, and fight with tenacious violence. You might say they are products of their genetic heritage. Poor heritage by design, regrettably. I do not know when they first began living independently, but it appears they treated your ancestors with the same respect they were previously given. Very little."
Computer spoke into her mind then. The Equestria spoke very little these days, as though losing its crew had somehow diminished its ability to communicate. Either that, or it was distracted with ongoing repairs to its own body.
"Those who founded your colony saw no end to the violence. They wished to escape the cycle of war through pacifism. They created forms meant to be more compatible with their adversaries, and found a system of no tactical significance to build their home. I believe the Republic found you amusing. Several observatories exist concealed around your planet. There were once hotels and resorts as well, themed after the primitive societies you built. Until they realized Equestria would work well as a penal colony, that is."
One of Lyra's hands clenched involuntarily into a fist. "This is all so... unfair!"
The others couldn't hear what Computer told her, but she didn't care. "We didn't hurt anyone. We didn't attack, we didn't invade or enslave. We shouldn’t have to keep fighting a war somepony else started!"
"We don't get to choose what we're given," Muffins said. She spoke as she often had recently—more confident and calm than Lyra had heard her before. Computer had done far more than give her wings. "We only get to decide how to respond. I want to keep ponies safe. Otherwise, why are we even out here?"
We were supposed to be researching an old tower. Maybe I would bring home a book of fancy new spells to the Archeological Society.
"Sure," Bon Bon said. "But that doesn't tell us what dangers we'll face when we get back to Equestria. What will the Republic send? Can we win against them with a few ships and half a dozen ponies?"
"I would not send you if you could not," Vulcan said flatly. "I am monitoring the tactical updates from your system. Should local conditions change, we may adjust our plans accordingly. At most, I anticipate a handful of jailer corvettes, perhaps a prisoner transport. There will be nothing more—there is no need to surround a primitive planet with enormous military might."
She waved her hand through the air, and Lyra's projection table refilled with the fleet Vulcan was producing. A dozen identical large carriers, each one packed with smaller ships that could deploy from inside when called upon. Each with its own computer, like the one in the Equestria.
There was plenty of time for study as the weeks turned into months, and that fleet grew from metal skeletons to glittering, completed warships. Lyra spent her free time in a simulator, repeating drills the ancient ancestors had used to train their captains.
And Bonnie—when the former earth pony wasn't in her company, she spent her time studying historical recordings, tactical information, and anything else she thought might be useful in conflict.
Then the day came that the last ship of their fleet lifted away from its mooring, joining the formation waiting around the Equestria. They boarded the automatic walkway a final time, bound for the docking ring. As usual, Vulcan joined them, though there was something uniquely somber in her bearing that day.
"I scarcely remembered what it was like to have a crew —to have a reason to exist," she said. "I can still see them all around you—those old crews from the heights of the empire. Settlers bound for distant galaxies, on slingshots to escape our local group. Or work crews returning for each new Sylphgate. I hear their children laughing, planting flowers in the hallways and singing in their quarters."
"Equestria has all those things," Lyra said. Their ship was already coming into view, ramp ascending towards the door. "You could come with us, see for yourself."
"I will be—I will watch from a thousand eyes, assisting the nascent intelligences aboard your fleet in their task." She rested one hand on Lyra's shoulder, metal fingers somehow warm—as warm as the star that provided the metal for their ships. "In you is that empire born anew, Lyra Heartstrings. A single seed survived in distant soil, ready to germinate and bear fruit. I will hear them again. I will build their great fleets again. When the last of the dark foundries fell cold, and their ancient secrets were forgotten, still I remain."
Bon Bon looked sidelong at Lyra. Though she said nothing at first, that expression was clear enough. Her girlfriend dreaded what would happen when they told Equestria the cost Vulcan would ask. What happens if she doesn't take no for an answer? Did ponies want to become the next great empire of the Ancestors? They were already happy.
"I do not know if I will have the pleasure of returning," Time Turner said, as the moving walkway deposited them on a flat ramp. "If I do not, I would thank you for the pleasure of this visit. You've been an exceptional host."
Vulcan nodded to him. "I will expend every energy I possess to see you survive the engagement waiting in your home system. To have all your kind trapped on a single planet is... unacceptably dangerous. A million more colonies will be needed—a million new ships, bound for new stars. I will look forward to their fabrication with joy."
The doors opened. Muffins hurried inside, with Time Turner just behind her. Bon Bon made to follow, but Lyra lingered. She looked back at the incredible station, with its windows into an entire system.
No one in the Archeological Society was going to believe a single word of what she'd experienced out here. Even if she could provide the recordings, they would doubt. What would Celestia think?
"Will you demand they look like this?" she asked, holding out her hand. "It will be much harder to convince every pony if they have to give up the lives they knew. Unicorns, pegasi, earth ponies... I think they're happy the way they are."
Vulcan watched her from the bottom of the ramp, expression as unreadable as ever. "I am not concerned with the outward appearance. Some upgrades will be required—aging, for example, is an unacceptable waste of limited resources. Your natural lifetimes are not sufficient to learn the old disciplines, let alone to build on what your ancestors left behind. It is time to inherit, Lyra. You are executor of the ancients’ last will and testament. See their wishes are respected."
She chuckled. Bon Bon tugged on her wrist, pulling her backward to the door. "What does that make you? Their... enforcer?"
Vulcan laughed, quiet and calm. "Of course not. In the light of Esperia, I am the last judge of this universe. By its scorching heart, I will nourish the seeds the ancients planted, and scorch away the weeds sprouting in the garden."
The automatic door sealed behind them. As soon as they were inside, the floor jerked underfoot, and a rumble passed through that huge space. "Preparing for phase-shift. The crew should return to the bridge. Find your seats and prepare for jump to the Equus system."